


the words are shards of glass

by skuls



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Cancer Arc, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-13 15:48:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10516860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skuls/pseuds/skuls
Summary: Based off the prompt "things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear".





	

**Author's Note:**

> original post: https://how-i-met-your-mulder.tumblr.com/post/156892882748/20-things-you-said-that-i-wasnt-meant-to-hear

 

She seems tired at the end of the day, drawn face and circles around her eyes, fatigue tugging at her body. Mulder offers to go and pick up some food. “Something light on your stomach,” he promises. She tries to smile before shutting the door to her hotel room.

(He feels the murky guilt building inside of him for dragging her on another out-of-town case. The same guilt that returns every time he sees her nose bleed or her vomiting over the sink. The _this is your fault, she’s dying because of you_ feeling.)

Mulder drives into town and picks Scully up some soup, as well as a sandwich for himself. When he gets back to the hotel, he heads straight for Scully’s hotel room. He stops straight in his tracks, however, when he hears Scully’s voice through the door. She is talking to her mom, reassuring her that she is fine. He sags against the wall outside, not wanting to disturb her.

“No, Mom, I’m fine,” Scully is saying, sounding exhausted. “I promise. I’m not overexerting myself, it’s mostly autopsies.”

It’s a lie; he’s tried to keep her from going into the field but she insists that he shouldn’t be without backup.

Scully sighs on the other side of the door. “Mom, Mulder’s not… overworking me. It’s my decision. It’s not his fault.”

Something thunks inside him like a stone. Scully’s mom thinks he’s making her sicker?

“No, it’s not…” She sighs again. “He’s sweet. He’s trying. He just doesn't… I wish I could figure out how to tell him I don’t want him here.”

Her soup tumbles from his hands and spills across the pavement. His fingers are numb, head spinning. “Mom, I’ve got to go,” Scully says on the other end, voice changed to sound nauseous. Footsteps echo across the floor, a door slamming open and a retching sound immediately following. Mulder is embarrassed enough to want to walk away, but his conscious takes over, not wanting to leave her sick and crumpled on the door. Despite the guilt rushing through him like nausea.

He taps on the door - “Scully?” - before using his key to get in. She’s bent over the open toilet, face ghost-white. “You okay?” he asks softly, grabbing a little plastic cup from the top of the mini fridge and filling it with cool tap water. She sips slowly from it, distasteful look on her face. They’ve done this enough that they have a routine. He looks carefully for any signs of repulsion or irritation on her part as he helps her up and leads her to the bed. Nothing, aside from a quiet “I’m okay” as she settles under the comforter. He unconsciously smooths hair back from her sweaty forehead before remembering.

“I, uh. There was an accident with your soup,” he says. “I’ll go get you some more.”

She shakes her head. “That’s okay, I’m not really hungry.”

“Scully, you need to eat.”

“I’ll call in something from room service.” Scully reaches for the remote on the nightstand. “I think there’s some old movies on tonight,” she says, in reference to what he’s been doing on recent nights - staying in her hotel room and watching movies.

“I don’t… I mean, if you don’t want me to…” He can’t bring himself to confront her about it. She is dying, so what does it possibly matter whether she wants him around her or not? “You have an out, Scully,” he says finally. “If you want it. I don’t have to stay.”

She blinks slowly at him, confused. “Mulder, what…” Realization dawns on her, at least as terrible as his. “You heard,” she says quietly.

He nods.

She closes her eyes, like it’s too much. “Mulder, you weren’t supposed to hear that,” she says.  “It wasn't… I didn’t mean it like that, Mulder.”

He bites his lip hard enough to draw blood. “Am I hovering too much? I can take a step back, Scully, it’s just that I worry…”

“No, it’s not that,” Scully says fiercely. She grabs his hand and tugs him closer to the bed. “ _I_ worry about _you_. About what’s going to happen to you after I die.”

He flinches automatically at the hated word, jaw clenching, squeezing her fingers. She squeezes back in some small attempt at comfort. “It’s not you, Mulder.  I just… Skinner and Mom and Missy told me what it was like, when I was missing. How you were. And I don’t want to break you, Mulder.” She pulls his hand so that it’s resting against her cheek.

He sits on the bed beside her. “Scully…” he says carefully. “It’s not… I don’t think anything could prevent me from being devastated when you’re gone. Whether it’s now, or fifty years from now. So I'll… I’ll back off if you want me to. But I want every possible second with you, and that’s whether you're… sick or not.” He is always careful never to use the word _dying_ in reference to her; he is very meticulous. He says, “You’re my best friend, Scully. I want to help you, in whatever way you need.”

Scully swallows, swiping under her eyes with the pads of her fingers before tipping her head forward to rest against his side. “Thank you,” she says thickly.

He smiles; it’s petty, but the relief that she doesn’t hate him is overwhelming. “Of course, Scully,” he says softly. “Of course.”


End file.
